


Misophonia

by Agxtsuma



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Kang Yeosang-centric, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OT8, They are All in Love, Yeosang has misophonia, also maybe a little ooc, but you will not take him working at a gas station away from me., did my best to portray it but its hard, if you want to have yeosang working at a gas station when hes not at dance practice, kindve, oh i guess theyre not idols here but they can be if you want idrc, oh yunho gets hurt kindve, sorry if this is ass, thats your business not mine, well im not sorry at all actually but if i say that people wont be mean if it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agxtsuma/pseuds/Agxtsuma
Summary: It made him feel like a bit of a freak, honestly. Who else had to stop themselves from physically recoiling when the chips someone was eating crunched too loudly?Probably nobody normal.It was worse in public places, of course. He tried to avoid going out to dinner, always feigning feeling ill, and he would rather walk 20 miles through a polar vortex than sit through a bus ride with someone across the aisle loudly sipping their coffee and another smacking their lips every two seconds like they were competing to see who could make him jump out of a moving vehicle first.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang/Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Everyone
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Misophonia

**Author's Note:**

> *lays down sexily* sorry if this sucks. actually no im not
> 
> I didn't reread this for errors so if you see something worded weirdly just look away and pretend you know what I'm saying
> 
> ALSO STREAM THE NEW ALBUM ON MARCH 1ST OR I HUNT YOU FOR SPORT

Welcome to Yeosang's life living with seven other people.

Or, as he liked to call it, the ninth circle of hell delivered personally to his door.

Don't get him wrong, he loved them. Of course he did! They were sweet, amazing, kind, beautiful, caring-

Loud. 

They were so fucking loud.

He didn't care when Mingi screamed with laughter, when Wooyoung broke the sound barrier wrestling with San on the living room floor, when Seonghwa woke the entire neighbourhood up at 2 am because apparently Yunho's dick was just That Good (well, not apparently; Yeosang could confirm this. Didn't mean Seonghwa couldn't put a pillow in his mouth to avoid waking all of Asia). 

He did care, however, when they scraped their yogurt cups, or chewed with their mouths open, or scraped their forks on their teeth, or slurped their drinks or soup- noises that nobody else batted an eye at.

It made him feel like a bit of a freak, honestly. Who else had to stop themselves from physically recoiling when the chips someone was eating crunched too loudly?

Probably nobody normal.

It was worse in public places, of course. He tried to avoid going out to dinner, always feigning feeling ill, and he would rather walk 20 miles through a polar vortex than sit through a bus ride with someone across the aisle loudly sipping their coffee and another smacking their lips every two seconds like they were competing to see who could make him jump out of a moving vehicle first.

He hated himself for it. It was worse when nothing was even _happening_ yet he felt himself getting antsy.

For example, when he was sitting on the couch with his seven darling, sweet, wonderful boyfriends watching a movie. He couldn't remember which movie it was, or who had picked it, or even the genre. All he could think about was the absolutely _infernal_ noises coming from Jongho next to him, whose chest he was cuddled into, and when he looked over to see what he was doing that was causing the noise, he was-

Breathing.

Jongho was just fucking breathing.

He tightened his arm around Yeosang's waist and pecked his forehead when he finally caught him staring and Yeosang wanted to either start bawling or curl up in a corner to die alone.

When Jongho asked him what was wrong, why he looked so upset, he had simply said he needed to pee and scurried off to the bathroom to cry himself into dehydration.

★★★ 

Wearing headphones helped. A lot.

He had started wearing them outside and at meals when he was around 15 after discovering that having his music turned up high during tests at school would block out the sound of the kid sitting next to him zipping and unzipping his sweatshirt incessantly.

He always felt bad about having his music blasting when he ate dinner with the others; they had gotten used to it at some point after Wooyoung - sweet, angelic Wooyoung - had explained to them that this was just something he did, he wasn't ignoring them, and to let it be. They had shrugged, looked at him weirdly, and thankfully stopped mentioning it. If he had been banned from using his headphones at meals he was pretty sure he would've assaulted one of them by now for talking with food in their mouth.

★★★

Years ago he had told Wooyoung about his problem after practically screaming at him for slurping his bubble tea and, both feeling rather startled at his outburst, they had sat down together to figure out why he reacted this way to seemingly normal noises.

They discovered it was a condition called misophonia, or 'hatred of sound." It was a neurophysiological issue where you have extremely negative reactions that were nearly impossible to control to certain sounds like chewing, humming, whistling, and other noises that most people would never think twice about.

"You've felt this way your whole life?" Wooyoung asked, a bit perturbed, and Yeosang shook his head quietly.

"Only since I was around 12, I think," he mumbled as he shoved his face into Wooyoung's shoulder. "As a kid, it used to just be that I had really good hearing, but as I got older it just got..." He shuddered and Wooyoung ran a soothing hand down his spine, pulling him closer. 

It was relieving to know he wasn't the only one who experienced these feelings - the anger and annoyance and even occasional nausea over sounds that seemed mundane. 

Together, they figured out ways to help him reduce the ways it affected him. Meditation of different sorts was said to help many control their outbursts accompanied by making an effort to figure out if other factors might affect just how serious it got (one that they discovered was that his reactions were usually worse if he was stressed or already in a bad mood).

He tried meditation the very next day and, over the next week, found his annoyance at Wooyoung's spoon scraping his bowl just the tiniest bit decreased. 

From then on he meditated every day after waking up. Even that little bit of relief felt amazing.

★★★

Yeosang wasn't big into dubstep, personally, but there were some pretty good songs out there. 

He had found a band called "Knife Party" and had been listening to some of their songs with Mingi when one called Centipede came on and yeah, he was definitely enjoying this one, specifically appreciating the unique beginning. He had never heard a song use documentary dialogue as an intro! Mingi smiled at the way Yeosang reached over to turn up the volume and then went back to his reading.

It was going wonderfully, really. Was. Until the end of the song started playing and holy shit that noise was fucking awful. It felt like something was crawling all over his body and in his ears, setting off every awful signal in his brain at once, telling him to grab the phone playing the song and throw it as far away from himself as he could. His entire body had tensed, his face scrunched up in discomfort, and he covered his ears with his palms until it was finally finished. Even then he didn't move for the next minute until Mingi asked if he was feeling sick and he had to force himself to uncurl and smile reassuringly.

Music was supposed to be safe.

Nothing like that happened again until he was spending time with his darlings Seonghwa and Hongjoong, listening to music once more. Both were utterly ecstatic for the (G)I-DLE comeback that had released that day and had dragged Yeosang along for the ride.

"The title track is called Oh My God," Seonghwa said with the entire night sky shining within his eyes. Yeosang pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and smiled as they waited for Hongjoong to start playing it.

It was a wonderful song, and the chorus was certainly appealing. Hongjoong danced along in the middle of the room as Seonghwa and Yeosang clapped along and laughed at him shaking his ass to Soyeon's rap verse.

It was when that verse ended that that awful slurping noise played and Yeosang felt every nerve in his body set on fire with annoyance and his face twist up in disgust. He quickly got up with the excuse of wanting to grab a drink and got the hell out of dodge, leaving behind two very confused hyungs. He didn't want them to think that he was mad at them or to yell at them instinctively when it was his own stupid brain that was the problem. It was better for him to just leave.

★★★

He had never told the others (besides Wooyoung) about his misophonia. He had his reasons, of course; he didn't want them to look at him differently, to treat him differently as though he were a little bomb waiting to go off if they made too much noise. He didn't want them to change the way they acted or interacted because of him, didn't want to be treated like a fragile doll.

Another reason was that he was embarrassed. How was one supposed to explain that the sound of metal on plastic made him feel inhuman amounts of rage for no reason? It certainly didn't seem like the type of thing that someone who had never experienced it would understand. Wooyoung kinda proved that even though he made the best effort he could. The closest he got was when Yeosang said that hearing someone's silverware scraping their teeth was like if Wooyoung had to hear 20 people scratching their nails down chalkboards two feet away from him. Wooyoung had simply grimaced and patted Yeosang's back before turning back to the food he had on the stove.

The most prominent reason, and maybe also the scariest, was the fear that they just wouldn't believe him. That they would say misophonia isn't a real condition, he was just being sensitive, and that he needed to get over it. It wasn't an irrational fear as he had gotten that response more than a few times when he tried to open up to people until, eventually, he had just given up and stopped trying to explain why he needed to wear his headphones to the family Christmas party as a child.

To say the party ended up being a disaster was an understatement - he had been told to stay upstairs in his room and play with his cousins every year thereafter.

★★★

Yeosang was stressed. 

His favorite skateboard had broken when he had taken it to the park, the cute one with the white grip tape, hangars, and base plates, and cherry blossoms under the deck and on the wheels. He would be less upset about it if it had been a natural break from age; in his mind, all that meant was that the board had been well-loved and used until it finally ran the course of its life and was ready to be replaced.

This had not been a natural break.

Somebody’s dipshit kids thought it would be funny to grab his board from his bag when he was enjoying a drink at the public water fountain and to try to ride it. Because 4 little morons couldn’t fit on one board, let alone morons who didn’t even know how to ride one properly, they thought that maybe if they jumped on it hard enough they could all squeeze on because, hey, maybe it was flexible and would stretch out! He only turned around from talking to another one of the park’s regulars when he heard a _crack_ and his soul just about flew out of his body. 

He hated kids.

He watched, frozen in place, as the kids brought his poor, precious board to their mother and she paled in horror, looking around to see if she could spot who it belonged to. They locked eyes and she quickly herded her little demons over to him, frenzied and offering to pay for a replacement. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it had cost him upwards of $200 due to all of the customization work he had done over the years. She seemed to sense this with some sort of motherly instinct and just about keeled over as she repeated a mantra of “I’m so, so sorry,” and “please, is there any way I can make this up to you?”

He simply took the two halves of the board, waved her off, and went home, face gaunt. The trucks and wheels were ok, and none of the nuts and bolts seemed to have come out, so maybe he could just get a new deck and repaint the cherry blossoms himself…? 

Ugh.

He went to sleep the minute he got home, ignoring the concerned looks from his boyfriends.

★★★

The next day he had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to get to work, which wasn’t too bad, mostly standing behind a register and giving the most macabre smile he could to little kids and their annoying parents who, for some reason, tried to barter with him over a microwavable hamburger. It was three fucking dollars, he couldn’t give less of a shit if they just straight-up stole it. What’s he gonna do, get his sore ass up at 6:30 am to give chase? For a fucking three-dollar hamburger??? Hell no. Still, if they came up to the register with it, he wasn’t exactly about to willingly give them a discount. His manager gave him the nastiest look he could from across the store until Yeosang relented and took off the requested ten cents (ten cents. Ten fucking cents he was losing brain cells for) and went back to what he was doing (watching dramas on his phone).

The manager stalked over to him a few moments later, clearly attempting to be intimidating, and Yeosang lazily glanced up at him as he paused the episode he was on. It was just getting good too, how tragic.

“Would you care to explain to me what the fuss over here was about, Mr. Kang?” He asked, foot starting to tap in annoyance.

“Not really,” Yeosang replied as he started to turn his attention back to his phone.

Flustered, the manager (ok, gonna be honest, Yeosang really just never bothered to learn the guy’s name and called him The Manager in his head) hissed through his teeth - ouch, that noise sucked - and waited. 

“Ok, fine, some old bitch didn’t want to pinch out 10 cents for a hamburger and I didn’t feel like giving a random discount, happy?”  
“No, I’m _not_ happy. First of all, you do _not_ call our customers such rude names-”

“What, old bitch?”

“Wh- yes, ‘old bitch.’ It’s unprofessional.” Yeosang had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Second, did you not restock when you came in this morning? The slushy machines were empty, half of the shelves weren’t full, the bathroom door hadn’t been unlocked, and some of the drink displays’ lights were still off. This is what you get paid for, and as an employee in this establishment, it is your duty to-” 

This is the part where Yeosang tuned out. He got paid to sit pretty behind the counter and scare little kids away from stealing candy, not do all that shit while the manager (seriously, what was his name…) fucked off doing god-knows-what around the store and harassed travelers just trying to get their cold hot dog and go.

“Do you understand, Mr. Kang?”

“Yeeeeep, gotcha, I’ll remember tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ve been having to speak to you quite a lot lately, any more than this, and I may have to consider firing you. Also, there’re extra weekend shifts again soon, consider taking that opportunity.”

Yeosang’s face blanched at the mention of getting fired - he really couldn’t afford to lose this job - and quickly asked for the weekend signup sheet. 

The rest of the day was spent worrying over his income and how quickly he could find another job if he were to suddenly lose this one; in this economy, it wasn’t looking great, and there were very few jobs he _could_ work without losing his mind over some unsuspecting customer chewing their gum too loudly. 

★★★

The real kicker was when he woke up on Monday, his day off (weekend work hadn’t been too bad, just very busy), to a very excited, very loud apartment. 

He reached over the side of his bed and dug around in his backpack for his headphones upon which he realized - and you are not gonna believe this shit - they were missing. His precious headphones, his babies, his saviors, his paradise. Gone in the night. 

He quickly resumed his search for them, and by the time he gave up, it looked like a coked-up bear had a personal vendetta against his worldly possessions and took it upon itself to be rid of them. 

He stared blankly at the wall as he got back under his comforter and tried to figure out how he was going to deal with this until the new ones he was going to have to order arrived. Dinner was out of the question, for sure-

The moment he thought that San burst into the room, eyes sparkling like the ocean in the sun and dimples on full display from the smile that covered his cute face.

Oh dear god.

“Yeosangieee, you’re never going to believe this,” he cooed as he bustled over to where Yeosang was swaddled in his blankets and trying to be dead to the world. “Woo and Hwa are going to make a stew for all of us tonight since they haven’t cooked together in awhile!!” He threw his arms around Yeosang and shook him like a dog with a chew toy, bright smile far too kind for this world. “Everyone is sooo excited, this is really going to be amazing, I thought I should tell you so you could get excited too since you’ve seemed a little sad lately.” He started peppering kisses all over Yeosang’s face, wrestled him down until he could force his way under the blankets too, and proceeded to pass out like a light switch turning off. How the hell did he do that?

Yeosang sighed and closed his eyes again, dozing and unable to sleep due to the noise but still letting San use his body as a human heater.

★★★

At some point, Mingi came in and he ended up sandwiched between them, heart full of love and body full of piss that he would like to take care of at some point in the very near future. He managed to wiggle his way out, get his morning routine done, and squish himself back between them quickly. San glared at him for daring to disturb his slumber and deprive him of his primary human furnace before he passed out again five seconds later. Yeosang played some games on his phone until San finally woke up and they started to watch some sports videos that he was interested in together. Yeosang quickly discovered this was a ploy to make him bored so that he would be more liable to accepting San’s kisses (that quickly became making out), which he would’ve been open to anyway, and Mingi patted the back of the head with a grumble along the lines of “can you two shut the fuck up I’m trying to nap,” to which he was called a cranky old man and given many kisses on the cheeks and forehead. He grumbled some more but made no move to escape.

Eventually, San and Mingi left Yeosang alone to deal with figuring out his game plan for dinner which frustrated him to no end. Nothing bad had happened so far today, so maybe he would be alright? He could control himself, he was a grown man, some lip-smacking and metal-on-metal wouldn’t kill him. Probably.

He had spent his day playing games with Mingi (who had eventually come crawling back with a plushie under his arm a pillow dangling from his mouth) and napped some more, so when Seonghwa called everybody for dinner sounding like he held all the joy of the sun in his body, Yeosang figured he was mentally prepared enough to get through the meal without committing manslaughter.

Boy was he wrong! Welcome to hell!

He hadn’t even made it to the kitchen before the sound of the soup ladle scraping the bottom of the pot reached his ears and made every muscle in his body tense up, head already aching. Annoyance crawled in his veins with every step he took closer to the source of the noise.

When he finally got to the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of everyone else, he managed to smile and join the conversation between Yunho and Hongjoong about… something. It was hard to focus when the only thing he could hear was metal scraping. 

Ten minutes later found all of them seated around the kitchen table - they thanked Wooyoung and Seonghwa for cooking, grabbed their utensils, and returned to their conversations as they ate. 

Honestly, Yeosang was proud of himself for even making it this far. He could feel his hands sweating as he grabbed for his spoon and every cell in his body telling him to get out. The hair on the back of his neck and arms was definitely standing straight up. He considered it a small miracle that nobody had noticed the mix of anxiety and anger that was making its way through his body and setting every nerve alight. 

His arm twitched towards Hongjoong, whose spoon scraped his bowl as he laughed at something one of them had said, one of his legs lightly kicking towards Jongho at the same time as he blew on his own spoonful of the stew to avoid getting burned. A bead of sweat ran down the side of Yeosang’s face.

He made it another ten minutes before it got _really_ bad. 

Everyone was in such good spirits, he really didn’t want to ruin this, but he didn’t want to upset his loves by leaving when they had put so much effort into making a special dinner for everybody either, and he knew that if he “took a break” to recuperate from the noise he wouldn’t come back. His skin was crawling.

Everything came to a head when his attention zeroed itself in on Yunho. Poor, sweet, naive Yunho. Innocent, caring Yunho. Too cute for this awful world.

He slurped at his soup to avoid getting burnt, scraped his teeth on his spoon as he put it back in the bowl, and smacked his lips in contentment, smiling at Seonghwa who smiled back sweetly. Then he scraped his spoon on his bowl to get the solid pieces of stew at the bottom, lips still smacking as he talked to whoever was next to him, and Yeosang was pretty sure he was experiencing emotions that no human had ever experienced before (bad ones). His jaw was clenched and his teeth were grinding, energy buzzing in his arms, and his heart was beating faster than was probably healthy. He would be amazed if there weren’t sweat stains on his shirt at this point.

Wooyoung looked to Yeosang to ask him what he thought of the cooking, pausing as he took in the pained expression on his boyfriend’s face, and his gaze darted to his ears. His eyes widened as he noticed the lack of headphones and he knew shit was one millisecond away from hitting the fan when he saw the subtle tick of Yeosang’s jaw and the way his eyes darted around in a panic.

And then Yunho said something to somebody, god knows who, before he had swallowed the soup in his mouth, and his lips made a wet noise, and his spoon clanged against his bowl-

At that moment, Yeosang completely lost control of his body.

“Would you fucking _STOP_?” He snapped, arm shooting forward to wrench the spoon out of Yunho’s grasp and chuck it across the apartment into the living room, unable to register what he was doing. The sudden movement knocked Yunho’s arm into his bowl, splattering soup all over the floor and his pants, and it was silent.

Wonderfully, mercifully silent.

Yeosang’s eyes slid closed and his lips formed into a small, relieved pout as he exhaled for the first time in what felt like centuries. And then they snapped open again, because the apartment was _never_ silent, and took in the looks on everybody’s faces. 

Wow, so this is what it felt like to be public enemy #1! 

Lots of anger, lots of confusion, and his poor darling Yunho looked two seconds away from tears, unsure what he had done wrong to cause mild-mannered Yeosang to snap like that. 

Seonghwa was already scampering to grab paper towels for Yunho’s soaked jeans as Hongjoong stood up, anger painted across his small features.

“Yeosang-” he began, and was near-immediately interrupted by Wooyoung.

“Where are your headphones.”

Yeosang was quiet, brain still trying to catch up with what had just happened and looking the human equivalent of a fax-machine noise. 

“His headphones?” San finally asked. Yunho wiped tears from his eyes as Seonghwa cooed over him and helped him dry off. Yeosang was still frozen in place, finally realizing what he had done, and then he was sobbing too.

“Yeah, his headphones, the wireless ones. Does anybody know where they are?” Wooyoung quickly moved towards him, throwing a glance at Yunho as well to make sure he was ok under Seonghwa’s care, and then wrapped Yeosang in as comforting of an embrace as was humanly possible. “Why aren’t you wearing them?” He asked quietly as they rocked gently back and forth. 

“I-” A choked inhale. “I lost them.” Wooyoung squeezed him tighter.

“First of all,” Hongjoong snapped, “why are you worrying about his headphones, of all things, w-” 

Seonghwa suddenly looked up, alarmed.

“I have them,” he said hesitantly. “I borrowed them to listen to ASMR last night since I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake him to ask since he had been working all day. I meant to return them in the morning, but it completely slipped my mind...”

Yeosang pulled away from Wooyoung to kneel by Yunho, a litany of “I’m sorry,” “I love you,” and “I didn’t mean to,” spilling from his lips. They held each other, both still crying. Quite honestly, the sniffling from Yunho’s crying was making Yeosang’s skin start crawling again which made him feel even worse.

“So is anybody going to explain what just happened,” Jongho said slowly, “or are we all just going to pretend Yeosang didn’t have some sort of mental break in the middle of dinner.”

It seemed that the shock of the event had finally worn off as everyone suddenly jumped up, crowding around Yunho to take turns cuddling him and petting his hair. Someone grabbed him a pair of dry sweatpants to change into from his room, another going to retrieve the cursed spoon from beneath the living room’s couch. Seonghwa had taken this opportunity to grab Yeosang’s headphones from his room and hand them to their owner, who quickly shoved them into his ears. He didn’t even bother trying to type in his phone’s password, taking enough comfort in the way they muffled the scratching and sniffling around him.

★★★

Yunho and Yeosang curled into each other on the couch, everyone else sitting in a loose circle with them. Yeosang avoided all eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I need the- the reason I need to wear my headphones at dinner…” He hesitated as he looked around the room. He felt more like public enemy #2 or 3 now, instead of #1, so at least there was some improvement! Wooyoung scooted closer to him and squeezed his shoulder. He took a breath.

“I have a disorder called misophonia that makes me react to certain sounds, umm, badly to say the least. That’s why I need to wear my headphones and listen to music a lot of the time.” He glanced around the room once more; everyone looked more confused than angry at this point. “They block out the trigger sounds.”

“Trigger sounds?” San asked. 

“Like noisy eating, metal scraping, lips smacking… that kind of thing. Earlier, I didn’t want to react like that, I didn’t mean to, it was just-” He looked away once more and fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Yunho. I’m glad you didn’t get burned. And I’m sorry for ruining your dinner, everyone.”

He waited for the rejection, for them to hate him and call him a crybaby, to tell him he should just get over it and that he was overreacting. 

He opened his eyes a bit when he didn’t receive that and was met with Seonghwa’s worried, pouting face two centimeters away from his own.

“I had no idea, I wouldn’t have taken your headphones if I had,” he said, voice laced with guilt. “I should have seen something was wrong-”

“How could you have known when I didn’t say anything?”

“Mother’s instinct.”

Ah, well.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Hongjoong asked, expression unreadable. Wooyoung carefully watched the room so he could jump in if he needed to as Yeosang explained his fear of rejection and being told his condition wasn’t real by those closest to him; of being made to feel like a freak who couldn’t control his emotions.

“I would have skipped the dinner to avoid this, but I didn’t want to upset you all and miss spending time with you. I thought it would be ok and I was wrong. I’m sorry for hiding this from you.” He finished hesitantly. As he spoke the eight men had scooted closer to each other until they were sat in a tight circle. Arms around each other and listening attentively.

They cooed softly and all reached forward to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks to which he grumbled in reluctant acceptance of the affection.

When he went to bed that night (code for “crawled his way into Yunho’s bed because he still felt guilty”) they gathered in the living room to research some more about misoph- phobia. Phonia. Misophonia? Misophobia? ……...misophonia...?

According to Google, it was misophonia which, yeah, ok. Misophobia sounded better but whatever, who cared. Not San. Nope.

Wooyoung helped by explaining more about Yeosang’s specific triggers, how he reacted, how his mood affected it, et cetera. 

With a better understanding of their boyfriend, the 6 men headed to their beds (code for “crawled their way into Yunho’s bed 5 minutes later because they wanted to sleep with him and Yeosang”).

“I’m just saying,” San huffed in the hallway outside Yunho’s shared room. “Misophobia just sounds better. Look, misophonia. Misophobia. Misophonia. Misophobia.” He paused, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in thought, and then frowned.

“Maybe misophonia _does_ sound better.”

“Please go to sleep, San.”

“Sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you chew with your mouth open fuck you and we are enemies now
> 
> Sorry the ending was rushed teehee I wanted to watch yeosang sugar lump cooking simulator so i just vomited words in a google doc and hoped for the best.
> 
> ALSO THE THINGS ABOUT THE SONGS ARE REAL i can't finish the Centipede maps in rhythm games bc the last 5 seconds are just audible discomfort and the slurping noise in Oh My God .......... the shivers running up my spine just thinking about it......


End file.
